Page 72 of Burdened Bonds

Azlan glances at Winnie. “Well …” she says, chewing her cheek, “neither of you are exactly Shakespeare, but I’d say Azlan is right. You are capable of stringing more than two words together into a sentence.”

“And you understand her far better than I do,” Azlan adds.

I scoff again. Understand her? Sometimes perhaps, most of the time she drives me round the bend – defying me, acting irrationally, failing to think things through, acting like a damn brat.

Fuck, I really, really miss that woman.

“Fine,” I say, not prepared to waste any more time arguing. “Is there anything in particular I need to do?”

“Nope,” Winnie says, “just drink it.”

I unscrew the lid and the stench of Tambric spice hits me square between the eyes, making me splutter. I hate this smell. I really hate this smell. It reminds me of things I’ve chosen to forget. I try my damn hardest to push those memories to one side and lift the jar to my lips. I’ve failed to ask Winnie about the potential side effects of this potion. Will it have my mouth blistering? Will it be so painful I’m screaming?

I peer down into the thick, gloopy mixture. It doesn’t matter. I’d swallow scorpions for that girl. I’d eat glass.

I bring it to my lips, and tip it into my mouth. It tastes rank – sour and bitter – and my immediate reaction is to spit the revolting thing out. But I force it down, feeling it tingle against my throat as I swallow. Then, trying my best not to smell and taste the stuff, I take another mouthful and another until I’m flinging my head back and tipping the very last drop down my throat.

Swiping my hand across the back of my mouth, I burpand screw the lid back on the empty jar, tossing it onto the seat beside me.

Both Winnie and Azlan are staring at me expectantly.

“Well?” Azlan says, “did it work?”

I examine my body, searching for signs that it has. All that feels different is a mighty sense of sickness residing in my belly. My bond feels no different.

“I don’t know.”

“Shit!” Azlan mutters.

“You haven’t tried yet,” Winnie points out with a roll of her eyes. “Nonny is a superior potion brewer. It’s going to work.”

I bring my fist to my mouth, smothering a second burp and then I settle back in my seat and reach for Rhi through the bond.

Immediately, it’s like I’m being whisked through the air and that sick feeling gets a whole lot worse.

Rhi?I call out, crossing my fingers and my toes and even my goddamn balls that this is going to work.Rhianna, are you there?

Static. Like an untuned radio.

My shoulders sag. It hasn’t worked.

Stone? Stone? Oh my god. Is that you?

Fuck, yes, sweetheart. Yes, fuck, it’s me.

I snap open my eyes. “It’s worked,” I say, grinning my head off, tears of relief pooling in my eyes. “It’s working.”

“Where is she, Phoenix? Where the fuck is she?”

Azlan looks as if he’d like to crawl over the seat, grab me by the collar and shake me senseless.

Stone? Stone? I can hear you. Are you there?

I’m here, sweetheart, right here. Are you safe? Are you in any danger?

I’m fine, Stone. Just fine. Are you? Is Azlan? Winnie? The … others?

I’m here right now with Azlan and Winnie. We’re all just fine.I don’t tell her about Tristan Kennedy and Spencer Moreau.Where are you? Can you tell me where you are?